Page 17 of Love Conquers All

She thought,Even if the world ends, at least we had this.

Chapter Eight

Present Day

Hannigan’s was all set for James Bruckson’s death party. It looked as though he’d spared no expense. The most exquisite liquors were waiting on the bar top, as were hors d’oeuvres like stuffed mushrooms, canapes, and things with caviar. When Sylvie and Graham came inside, they overheard one of the bartenders talking about how James Bruckson had made up his own cocktails for the occasion, as though this were a wedding reception rather than a wake. Sylvie had never known her father to be joyful, so she could only assume that the entire affair was more fodder to make her feel guilty for not seeing him before he died. That, or more fodder to make everyone else guilty that they hadn’t appreciated him enough.

James Bruckson had had a lot of time to think about how this would go.

“Should we order one of the special James Bruckson cocktails?” Graham asked.

“I’ll take a white wine,” Sylvie said.

“Roger that.”

Sylvie sat at a table in the corner, watching the door of the funeral home. She knew that, after this, a hearse would drive the casket out to the cemetery, where a small collection of onlookers would watch James Bruckson’s casket be lowered into the ground. More chilly rain spat against the glass. She wondered if she’d have the energy to go out to the cemetery. She tried to picture herself there—hovering above her mother’s grave as the pastor said a few final words—but couldn’t.

Graham returned with her glass of wine.

“Thank you.” Sylvie looked him in the eye and marveled at how bizarre this was. For a moment, she allowed herself to pretend that, in fact, she and Graham had gotten married, that they’d had an entire life together, and that they’d come back to Nantucket for her father’s funeral. But life hadn’t happened that way.

“You know what I was thinking about on the way here?” Graham asked.

Sylvie was too terrified to guess. “Tell me.”

“I was thinking about that first protest we staged,” Graham said. “The regatta.”

Sylvie couldn’t help but smile. She’d often thought that morning was the best of her life—but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

She could still remember the beautiful dynamics of that kiss. She could still hear the crowd roaring in the distance as the cops whisked them away.

“We thought we were so important,” Sylvie said finally. “We really thought we could change the world.”

Graham’s smile faded the slightest bit. He’d opted for a whiskey, which he raised to clink with hers. “We thought we could. Sometimes I still think we can.”

Sylvie remembered the approaching award ceremony, where she was supposed to receive recognition for her “brilliant” work in getting the word out about environmental issues. But so many years after that day at the regatta, she wasn’t sure if writing exposés was any more powerful than handcuffing yourself to a sailboat and forcing people to take notice.

“Weren’t you, um, staging protests? Or something?” Sylvie asked although she’d spent the majority of their time apart trying to keep Graham Ellis out of her mind.

Graham blushed. “I’ve been trying. And failing. And trying again.”

“I seem to remember some pretty high-profile cases,” Sylvie said, rolling through her thoughts, trying to remember. “Something in the Arctic Circle?”

“That was a disaster.” Graham shook his head. “I got frostbite and almost lost a toe.”

Sylvie winced.

“The worst of it was, I got deported,” Graham said, lowering his eyes. He looked ashamed. “I’d been there for months, fighting. And they still brought out their machines and started drilling.”

Sylvie was quiet for a moment. A few more guests milled in, but she couldn’t tell if they were here for her father’s wake. One of them was a beautiful redhead who looked semi-familiar to her. She ordered a cocktail and sat in the corner with her head bent over her phone. Graham followed Sylvie’s gaze. His jaw dropped.

“What?” Sylvie whispered.

Jealousy made her vision blurry.

“That’s Hilary Salt,” he said as softly as he could.

“Okay?” Sylvie had never heard of her before.

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